Chapter 20: The Secret Diary and the Oblivious City
It was almost 1 pm, the asphalt outside was already getting hot.
In the sanctuary of his room, a space that offered him the security his anxious mind craved, Joey typed frantically on his computer.
The text document had become a kind of secret diary, a repository for all the anomalies he had witnessed and the interactions he had had. He meticulously described the glow in the garden, the encounter with Kael (whom he still referred to as "the hooded man"), the details of Lyra in the alley, little Pip in the warehouse, the news about Zylar.
This process of documenting, of collecting and organizing the data, appealed to his analytical nature and his need to understand what makes things work.
Writing about it, giving name and form to the events, was paradoxically calming and distressing.
It brought a sense of control, of organization amidst the chaos that threatened to overwhelm him, which was a small comfort.
But it also solidified the extraordinary and dangerous nature of it all, forcing him to confront realities that his usual self-doubt might have tried to dismiss.
He mentioned the fear he felt, a constant companion, but also the strange compulsion to help these oppressed beings, linking it, hesitantly—as he often did when grappling with his deeper motivations—to his dream of a kinder world.
His mother's mention of "vigils" near the library worried him deeply; Lyra was already so scared, and his protective instincts flared at the thought of her increased danger.
While Joey concentrated on his digital diary, a task he preferred to undertake in solitude, Léo, in the living room, was in his own world of investigations.
The conversation with his mother and the memory of Joey's strange behavior had spurred him on.
He searched on his phone for "elf," "strange library sightings," finding a mix of posts from curious onlookers, conspiracy theories, and some genuinely intriguing accounts that echoed what he himself had seen and heard.
He decided that later, perhaps in the late afternoon, he would take a walk around the library area again, "just to see what's going on."
Kael, the Tracker, was already in position.
He had found an ideal observation point atop an old building that gave him a clear view of the abandoned cinema, the library, and the adjacent streets.
The equipment in his multifunctional hood discreetly monitored radio frequencies, energy fluctuations, and movement in the area. The information about possible "vigils" had put him on alert. Gatherings of curious humans could compromise the safety of the displaced and hinder any attempt at discreet contact or rescue.
Inside the abandoned cinema, Lyra finished the second cereal bar. She felt a little better, energy returning to her body.
She examined the colorful wrappers of the bars, marveling at the complexity of the packaging for something so simple.
She thought of the young human. He hadn't said a word, but his eyes conveyed a mixture of fear and... compassion? It was a combination she wouldn't have expected.
She looked around the dusty cinema. She needed to find a way to understand this world, or to find the symbols that could lead her home.
Pip, in her hideout, finalized preparations for her nighttime incursion into the industrial area.
She had mapped out a route that minimized exposure, primarily using rooftops and the city's drainage systems.
Her camouflage device was unstable, but she hoped it would be sufficient for the shadows of the night.
Zylar, meanwhile, continued his mental study of his cell's systems.
He had identified what he believed to be a blind spot in one of the camera's sweep patterns.
The opportunity for his "demonstration" might arise during the guards' shift change or during one of the rare, brief power outages he had noticed occurring in the facility.
Life in the small town followed its normal course on that Thursday afternoon.
Cars passed by, children played in the squares, local businesses served their customers.
Few could imagine the silent dramas and audacious plans unfolding in the shadows, in closed rooms, and in the city's abandoned buildings, connecting a shy, dreaming young man—who often felt like an outsider looking in—to beings from distant realities.
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